Page 51 of One Summer Weekend
‘I’m sorry for deceiving you and Bill,’ I went on. ‘But, whatever you think of me, please help me to make things right with Jack. I want to go and see him tomorrow – except I haven’t a clue where he lives.’
Silence; then she said drily, ‘I’m tempted to take you there myself – but only so that I can kill him with my barehands, and that would defeat the whole object of your visit.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘You’ve nothing to be sorry about, whereas he …’ Her voice trailed away. ‘It’s true that Bill and I assumed from the way he talked that you were his girlfriend. And it would certainly have been a good tactic with Karina, if she’d bothered to turn up. But there was no need to keep the coaching under wraps – Billwould have told you what you wanted to know, he’d do anything for Jack.’
I digested this in silence. Even though Midge had confirmed two of Jack’s reasons for the role play, she was still baffled by the third reason – the one most closely related to my coaching assignment, the one I should have rejected on the spot. Why had I allowed myself to be persuaded so easily into the role of Jack’sgirlfriend? Could it be because, subconsciously, I was already half in love with him? And all the time I thought myself immune, because he reminded me of Troy …
They’re not really alike, of course – Jack’s a far better man. It was more my reactions to him that brought back memories of Troy – something I should have realised right from the start. But that doesn’t change the fact that I couldhave interviewed Bill openly …
‘I see,’ I managed at last. ‘Well, you can take me to his house, but it sounds like I should be the one killing him with my bare hands. As slowly and painfully as possible.’
She laughed. ‘Och, I don’t think he’s in any real danger from either of us, is he? But I’m serious about the first part of the offer, I could meet you somewhere near Manchester. Areyou driving, or coming by train?’
‘Train. If I go home to get my car, I might chicken out.’
‘Can you get to Preston station, then? Saves me negotiating Manchester city centre, and Jack’s only half an hour or so from there.’
It was arranged in a moment; I would get the first direct train from Euston, arriving shortly before noon. She and Bill would pick me up and drive me to Jack’shouse – and that was as far as the plan went. I shied away from any further discussion, and she didn’t encourage me.
We ended the call with profuse thanks on my side, and cheerful protests on hers. Alone with my thoughts once again, I sipped my tea, besieged by regret and uncertainty. I longed for, yet dreaded, tomorrow – knowing that, once I saw Jack, I would be either elated or distraught.And, right now, it was too close to call. In the end I fell into an exhausted sleep, and dreamt that I went to Jack’s house. I rang the bell, but it was Karina who came to the door …
Morning broke, relentless sunshine. I got up too soon, packed too quickly, checked out of the hotel and arrived half an hour early for my train. I spent most of this time agonising over which ticket to buy.A day return was too restrictive, given that I had no guarantee of Jack being at home, and might even have to wait until he showed up at work. An open return seemed to demonstrate a reluctance to commit, a triumph of the rational over the emotional. I opted – with a thrill of trepidation – for a single: no limitation on the date, or even the starting point of my return to the south.
Onceon the train, I bought a newspaper and a coffee, and went through the motions of enjoying both. I felt that, if I analysed or prepared in any way for what was to come, I would fail.For the first time since that Californian summer, I’m being led by my heart as opposed to my head. Scary.
Reading a paper wouldn’t normally fill a journey of almost three hours; but fortunately this was a Sunday,and there was a seemingly endless supply of newsprint. At last I heard the announcement that Preston would be the next stop.Deep breath. And another.
I texted Midge to say that I’d arrived, and received an instant reply: ‘Am outside – you can’t miss me!’ I marched through the ticket barrier, fabricating a smile at the same railway official who’d helped me a week ago – and then hesitatedoutside the station, unsure which of the parked cars to head for. There weren’t many to choose from: a battered silver people carrier, a small yellow hatchback, an old white van – no, a motorhome. A motorhome that looked vaguely, heart-stoppingly, familiar.
The nut-brown arm waggling out of the driver’s window settled it. As I approached, Midge jumped down and gave me a hug.
‘No hardfeelings?’ I said, shyly.
She picked up my case and stowed it in the luggage compartment. ‘No hard feelings at all, and Bill’s the same. He’s gone on ahead, by the way – he wanted to check out the lie of the land at Jack’s.’
I puzzled over her last comment as I swung myself up into the passenger seat. ‘Why aren’t you travelling together?’
She didn’t answer immediately; once theengine spluttered into life, she concentrated on manoeuvring Hermann into the sporadic flow of traffic. Then, with an apologetic smile, ‘We decided you needed a back-up plan. After we drop you at Jack’s, we’ll be skedaddling off home – but if we leave Hermann behind then you can camp out on his doorstep in comfort.’
I suppressed a gulp of dismay. ‘Do you think that’s going to be necessary?’
‘Who knows? He may be out until this evening, or he may not want to co-operate – at least at first,’ she added, hastily. ‘Anyway, I thought you liked Hermann?’
‘I do, I really do. I’m just a bit on edge about how Jack’s going to react. Any advice? You know him so much better than I do.’
‘In some ways.’ She waved vigorously at a motorhome coming the other way.
‘Friends ofyours?’
She laughed. ‘No, it’s what we do in the motorhome community, wave to each other on the road. Just like we give our motorhomes proper names, like Hermann. Back to your question. Yes, I’ve got some advice for you.’ A sideways look at me. ‘Decide what you want out of your relationship with Jack, and go for it. No more pussyfooting around.’
I was silent. Then, with a forced laugh,‘That’s sort of what I tell my coaching clients. It starts with goal-setting, but then there’s always the deep dive – the reality check. I know what my goal is with Jack, what I don’t know is how realistic it is. And there’s no time to do the deep dive justice.’
Another motorhome, another wave from Midge. ‘You know, Alicia, you can plan your life as much as you want, but it’ll always throwyou a curved ball at some time or other. It’s how you deal with the unexpected, or the unknown, that matters.’
She was right, of course. Which was why my comfort zone was executive coaching, with its focus on business. Somehow that applied an order – albeit a superficial one – to the natural chaos of human needs and emotions and communications.
